


a step off of damocles dock

by etoilette



Series: AU-gust 2020 [15]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25929787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilette/pseuds/etoilette
Summary: “I try not to swear as Joker,” Joker tsks. “I’m a gentleman thief and it’s not very gentlemanly to cuss.”“Good for you,” Crow replies. “I’m not Joker so I don’t have to abide by that rule.”ORAn accident during Joker and Crow's venture into Maruki Palace leads to the two of them trading places quite literally.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: AU-gust 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860436
Comments: 6
Kudos: 128





	a step off of damocles dock

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day #15 of AU-gust: Role Reversal AU!
> 
> I had an idea of gunplay, where Akechi is the one in the interrogation room, but after vampire fic yesterday, I have not been able to get into the horny mindset. So here is body swap, which I think is a good inversion of the usual role reversal idea in Persona 5 fandom. Unfortunately the idea I had was too complicated to fit it all in one chapter, so I had to split it. I will finish the rest of this fic after August.
> 
> [Here is amazing artwork of this by the ever-lovely Tuggi!!!](https://twitter.com/JustTuggi/status/1294996715955785730)

When Akechi first infiltrated the Phantom Thieves as “Crow,” he thought that the biggest headache would be in babysitting the children and in having to make sure his words were as inoffensive as possible. It simply wouldn’t do to be kicked from the team earlier than necessary just because of a pointless quarrel.

However, what he didn’t take into account was that it was much harder than expected to pretend to be less competent than he actually is. The sheer number of Shadows he could have destroyed with Loki in Sae’s Palace was staggering; he could have cleared the place and killed off her Shadow in two days if this was a job assigned to him, but the Phantom Thieves’ pace was maddeningly slow and careful. 

He watched in battle as Skull missed a blow aimed at an Ose, almost tripping over his own feet as Mona screeched insults at him. He watched as Queen leapt into action to cover Skull’s unprotected back when a Kumbhanda attempted to take advantage of Skull’s imbalance, her fists blocking one of Kumbhanda’s oddly scissors-shaped hands easily. 

It would impede their progress in Sae’s Palace if Queen was murdered here, so Crow rushed in to help. He could already envision what he would do: he would use his lightsabre to slash the Kumbhanda’s arm off, would kick him away so he could get some distance to aim, and then shoot it with his ray gun until it dissolved into goo.

In his head, it was the perfect strategy, so of course in practice, it went awry immediately.

He ran in, his blade aloft, but before he could strike, Queen let out a primal scream of fury and punched out at the Kumbhanda, sending it reeling back. Without a target to strike, Crow quickly sheathed the lightsabre so he didn’t accidentally cut off Queen’s hand, but with the Kumbhanda out the way, he could see Joker running in from the other side.

Even behind Joker’s black and white mask, he could see how Joker’s eyes were wide in surprise at the sudden change of events, and he knew that if he was in Joker’s position, he would be able to see an identical expression on his own face. It was too late to stop, with how fast he and Joker were running, and he braced himself.

“Oof!” the two boys exclaimed at the same time. Thankfully Crow moved his face slightly to the side so that Joker’s face hit his cheek instead of colliding straight into his face. The sharp beak of his mask could have done some serious damage.

“Are you two alright?” Queen asked briskly, shaking her wrist and summoning Johanna behind her. The mediarahan was a welcoming balm on Crow’s face.

“I’m fine,” Crow said and he could hear the distant screeching of the Ose as Fox and Panther dealt with it. “Joker, how about you?”

“Yeah,” Joker said. He was shaking his head rapidly, no doubt trying to clear away the stars in his vision. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The Phantom Thieves were gathering around them now, various looks of sympathy and amusement in their masked faces. Navi was the only one outright laughing.

“Oh man, you guys just faceplanted into each other,” she cackled.

“Thankfully not face-first,” Skull snickered. “Crow would have killed you.”

It would have been a straight stab into the forehead. It took a considerable effort to avoid thinking about how Akira would die that way too, albeit with a bullet instead.

“If this was an anime, Joker and Crow would’ve switched bodies,” Navi said. She poked Akira aggressively in his stomach, causing him to back up with a protective hand at his side. “You’re still Joker inside, aren’t you? Who’s your favourite Vocaloid?”

“I like Gakupo.”

Navi stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry. “Definitely Joker. He’s the only one with taste this shitty. And also I don’t think Crow knows what Vocaloid even is.”

“I do,” Crow lied.

“Doubt,” Navi said immediately. “Who’s your favourite then?”

Before Crow could say anything, Queen clapped her hands like she was a fucking teacher at day camp and cleared her throat. 

“Well since no one’s bodies are switched and we’re done here, let’s continue, shall we?” 

There was a dangerous edge to her voice that was quite clearly saying “no messing around.” The Phantom Thieves quieted down, though they were obviously still amused from the earlier mistake. Crow brushed imaginary lint off his clothes as the other Phantom Thieves walked by him, but to his dismay, Joker stopped next to him, a playful smile on his face.

He wasn’t nearly as charming as he thought.

“Too bad we didn’t actually switch bodies,” Joker said playfully. “It would’ve been fun to live as the Detective Prince for a bit.”

Crow laughed airily, though his emotions were a heavy stone in his stomach. “It’s not as glamorous as the media would have you believe.”

“Remember after our date in Kichijoji when you talked about switching clothes? It would be sort of like that.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I think it would be nice to see how the Detective Prince lives when the cameras turn off,” Joker continued as if he didn’t hear anything Crow said to him. He probably didn’t, so wrapped up in his own mind and fantasies that everything came second to him. “Isn’t there anything you want to know about my life?”

Crow thought about how Akira had been sent to Tokyo with the label of “degenerate criminal” on his back. How he was able to carve a warm space for himself in Leblanc, surrounded by friends who didn’t care about his past or reputation. What was so different between the two of them, that Akira could be kicked down by life and still pick himself up within a year, yet every time Akechi tried to do the same he was met with wall after wall after _wall_. 

“No,” he said brightly. “There’s absolutely nothing I want to know about you.”

X

Dodging the Hastur’s tentacles and shooting it dead while in mid-air was an easy affair for someone as experienced in combat as Crow. He was used to working alone, used to watching his own back because no one else in the world would do it for him.

It was just his luck that Joker was the type of person to throw himself headlong into danger for no fucking reason. His landing would have been perfect - he’d done this exact move a million times now in the past - but Joker just had to run forward, screaming Crow’s name like he was in any actual danger.

“Oof!” the two exclaim at the same time, and Crow was hit with the oddest sense of deja vu. It’s good that Crow already took care of the Shadow because they are sitting ducks, tangled up together on the sterile floor of Maruki’s Palace. 

“Get the hell off of me,” Crow snarls. 

Has his voice always been so low, or is it just the result of his anger? 

“What are you talking about?” Joker asks. “You’re on top of me.”

Has Joker’s voice always been that high? Joker is frustratingly taciturn but it’s not as if Crow’s completely forgotten his voice in between Christmas and January.

He twists his body and throws Joker off of him, rolling to the side and leaping to his feet like a cat. The tattered cape on his outfit isn’t long enough to get in his way when he does these moves, and the lycra is easy to move in. However, he can’t help but notice how heavy his body feels, how much more billowy everything is. He’s prepared to yell at Joker, maybe berate him for his stupidity, but it’s hard to be so angry at Joker when it’s not even Joker he’s looking at.

Akechi Goro in all of his Black Mask glory is blinking up at him from the ground, confusion clear in his face as he touches his mask with his hands. The visor must be casting the world in red for him, and even behind the restricting black mask, Crow could see his own eyes widen in incredulity at the clawed gauntlets.

It doesn’t take Crow long at all to put two and two together, and he looks down at his own hands, clad in familiar red leather. 

“Do you suppose Maruki watches a lot of anime where this kind of thing happens?” Joker asks, and Crow cringes at the stupid question coming out of his mouth. It’s like watching himself as the Detective Prince on TV, pretending to be more awkward than he actually is, except he has no control over what words Joker chooses to use. 

“I don’t give a shit,” he says. 

“I try not to swear as Joker,” Joker tsks. “I’m a _gentleman thief_ and it’s not very gentlemanly to cuss.”

“Good for you,” Crow replies. “I’m not Joker so I don’t have to abide by that rule.”

“Thanks for not swearing there.”

“Fuck you.”

If Crow concentrates, he can summon Loki, even from Joker’s body, and Joker could do the same, calling forth Arsene from Crow’s black mask. But it’s an effort, and he can’t move very well in Joker’s body. He isn’t sure just how Joker manages to be so acrobatic with the jacket getting in the way every time Crow moves. 

It takes them only a minute of discussion before they agree to leave the Palace, even though Joker must be jittering out of his skin to go back and try to rescue Yoshizawa from Maruki’s grasp. He makes sure that Joker knows exactly what Crow thinks of his body, and Joker smiles the whole time. It’s creepy to see such an earnest look on his face, and it pisses him off that the only time he’s ever able to see a smile so wide and so genuine on his own face is when it’s not even himself behind the helm.

“Stop smiling like that,” he snaps as they walk down the stairs. “Don’t do that to my face.”

“Your body is easy to move in,” Joker says. He jumps the last few steps like a child, spinning in place and raising his arms, appraising every bit of his new body. “It’s super light. Have you been eating enough?”

“I’m just fit, unlike you,” Crow says. “How are you this heavy? You exercise every day just like I do.”

“It’s just the Metaverse outfit, I think. This is really tight. It’s like you’re wearing nothing at all.”

“Shut up. Don’t say that to me.”

Crow half expects Maruki to be there waiting for them outside of the Palace, but he wasn’t. He also expects to be jolted back into his body after returning to the real world, but after the dazzling array of colours fade away and he finds himself back in the dirty streets of Tokyo, he is still in Akira’s smelly body. The heaviness doesn’t really lift, and he starts to wonder if maybe Akira just needs a good massage or two. 

“This scarf is nice,” Akira says, burying his nose into Akechi’s tartan scarf and breathing deep. The weird smile that was on his face the entire time they were in the Palace is gone, and for a second, it’s almost like looking in a mirror. “It smells real good.”

“Don’t be gross,” Akechi says with a grimace. He doesn’t want to put his face anywhere near Akira’s body, let alone his clothes. “We need to go back and find Maruki. It happened in his Palace; he must know what’s wrong.”

“Didn’t you agree to leave it just now?” Akira says, because he’s a pedantic ass. “It’s too dangerous today. We should go back in tomorrow.”

“Does it really matter when we go, whether it’s today or tomorrow? It’s not like a new day will let us use our Personas easier.”

Akechi watches as his body’s hand reaches up to fiddle with his bangs. He’s seen Akira pull on the curls, letting them bounce back whenever he lets go, but with Akechi’s hair, all it does is get frizzy and messy. Akechi has to fight down the urge to reach out and comb the hair so that it’s back to its normal state. Maybe Akira is okay looking like someone who just walked through a windstorm, but Akechi would rather die than look anything less than perfect.

“Maybe if we know more about each other, we’d be able to use our Personas again.”

“How does that work?” Akechi asks, baffled. “It would be one thing to be more attuned with myself, but how does knowing more about your life help me with my Persona?”

Akira shrugs. 

Akechi waits.

Akira continues to fiddle with his hair. There is no considering look in his eye, just patience. He’s already made up his mind and he’s just waiting to hear Akechi agree with him. 

What could Akechi do in this situation? He could tell Akira to stuff it, march right back into Maruki Palace and...Could he do it? Fight through the Palace, get Yoshizawa back (since Akira is so adamant on that), and kill Maruki?

Maybe. Maybe if he was in his own body, and he had full access to Loki. The delay between calling for his Persona and feeling it emerge from the unfamiliar body is too much, just enough that a Hastur or a Fafnir could get in a lethal blow. 

He’s been traversing the Metaverse for years now. Killed hundreds upon thousands of Shadows. He grits his teeth, uncaring of the pain in his skull from how hard he was biting down - it’s not his teeth, he doesn’t have to worry - at how helpless he feels. At how much he would need to depend on _Akira_ if he wants to survive. 

“Fine,” he hisses, and he never realizes just how feral and dangerous Akira could sound if he pitches his voice low enough. “ _Fine_. I have no choice. You’ve forced my hand.”

Akira beams at him, so sunny and cheery that Akechi wants to slap it off of his face. Instead of doing so, he reaches up, grabs the scarf, and smothers him with it, uncaring of how much Akira slapped his face in an attempt to fight it off.


End file.
